Screaming, Yelling, Cursing
by Just A Penniless Writer
Summary: Hermione finds a new way to relieve stress and finds it may be more helpful than she originally thought. Oneshot, SSHG


**Screaming, Yelling, Cursing  
**_Just A Penniless Writer_

_**Disclaimer:**_ If you recognize it, it isn't mine.  
_**Author's Plea:**_ One-shot with one of my preferred forms of stress relief. My first fic featuring a sort of Snape/Hermione pairing, though I would consider this more of the prequel to a SSHG. Not much romance at all. Still needs a thorough edit. Not sure if the characters are good. Eh. Decide for yourself.

* * *

If there was one thing Hermione was most gracious for during the last semester of her seventh year, it was the entirely blessed Room of Requirement. 

Since she had discovered it, she had always admired it and been thankful for its usefulness. However, it wasn't until lately that full appreciation for its existence had set it. She was quite sure she would have crashed and burned by now without it. And it was really so simple, too, as her only requirement was soundproofing.

Once a week, or more on particularly stressful weeks such as this one, she visited the room after curfew and screamed. She screamed all her frustrations into the echoing room, knowing that no one could hear her outside. Every remark she had held unwillingly held back, every bit of irritation she had felt, every indignity she had borne in silence was released in those ten wonderful minutes of loud, partially coherent ranting.

Hermione didn't believe anything could possibly feel better.

It really had been wonderful ever since the beginning, but this week the practice was downright saving her. NEWTS were in two short weeks. The professors were going insane in their misguided attempts at forcing every bit of knowledge down the throats of the students. If it had been new material, she might have appreciated it. Unfortunately, it was only diluted review, nothing she didn't already know and with no details. Boring, and she much preferred her form of revision.

To make it worse, Ron and Harry had finally realized how serious their predicament was. Had they only started studying last year like she had, they wouldn't be so worried. Hell, had they only started studying last semester, they would probably be fine. After all, defeating Voldemort had to count for something. However, they had waited until the last minute and now were scrambling to remember everything they could, usually by asking her questions every free second of the day. She could only say 'I told you so' so many times, and she couldn't turn them away. But she could look irritated while she re-taught them what they should have already known and scream it off late at night.

But that wasn't the end of it. Her oblivious roommates, unaware she was awake, had conversed about her. More specifically, they had conversed about her lack of love life. Usually, this wouldn't bother her. After all, she was perfectly fine without a man in her life. She had tried balancing school with boys, it just hadn't worked out very well, and so she had decided to swear them off until after graduation.

'I am still young,' she reasoned. 'I have plenty of time to get involved and very little time to get established in my ideal career. Their priorities need to be adjusted.'

However, that wasn't what Lavender and Parvati seemed to think. And, as she'd already been in quite the state from several long, hard days of pent up screams, she had been vulnerable to their brand of twisted, romantic logic.

But now, as she walked by the invisible entrance to the Room of Requirement for the third time, she intended to scream all her insecurities out and be done with it. With the appearance of the blessed door, she went inside with a relieved sigh before shutting and locking the door securely. Sure, the room could do it, but it just felt so good to slide the lock into place before going about her business.

The room was just as it usually was: all vaulting ceiling and distant walls covered in the thick padding that signified soundproofing. Trailing fingers along the odd texture of the walls, she felt comfortable for perhaps the first time in the last few days. However, if a quiet, safe room was all she was interested in, she would have found an abandoned classroom to relax in. Instead, she needed release of a verbal variety, and she intended to get it.

"They are all pathetic," she whispered into the still air. Nothing responded.

"They think my marks come from just brains," she said with more volume. "As if my hard work meant nothing. Ha!"

She smiled almost viciously as she continued in a tone she would never consider using in the presence of anyone.

"They are foolish. Foolish!"

Yes, that felt quite good.

"Life is not over with Voldemort dead! There is still a lot to do!"

She twirled recklessly into the middle of the room.

"Stop bothering me with your problems! I am quite busy!"

She spun faster, taking childish glee in being able to do so without any odd looks.

"I am happy with my life! If I needed you to give me advice, I would ask for it!"

She had yelled the last part and was quite happy with the resulting echo, despite the fact that her mind told her a soundproof room shouldn't have an echo. After all, this was magic, and some of the laws of reason did not apply.

"I am a GIRL, damn it all! That doesn't mean I don't have GOALS!"

She giggled almost manically.

"I DON'T NEED A MAN!"

For some reason that phrase was sobering. Stopping mid twirl, she found herself tense and ready for the true action of the night to begin.

"It is MY LIFE! Not yours! I choose how to live it! Not you! Stop criticizing me! Stop telling me what to do! I am not who you think I am! I AM NOT! Stop it, stop IT, STOP IT!"

A loud, shaking breath paused the rant, but not for long. However, for all that she had words at every other time, in every other instance, and at every other occasion, she found that words could not adequately get her feelings across here.

She screamed. Screamed on and on, occasionally breaking to sob or breathe, occasionally to yell a single word or two that had her particularly frustrated. But mostly, she screamed, basking in the echoes that bombarded her continually.

It was perfection. It was brilliant. It was exactly what she needed.

She finished with a rousing, ear-splitting "Fuck the lot of ya!" before collapsing onto her knees on the plush carpet that had thankfully appeared, catching her breath. After a few minutes of regaining her bearings, she relaxed further and reclined onto the floor, staring at the faint paintings that covered the ceiling with an aura of peaceful mystery.

"That felt good," she whispered with an awed smile. No matter how many times Hermione completed this new ritual, she was still surprised by its effect.

Still, she had been gone longer than usual. She needed to return to Gryffindor Tower before Professor Snape passed this corridor on patrol. If she didn't, she'd have to wait until after both he and Filch went by before attempting the route. Her magical watch still gave her a full five minutes before she would have any trouble, and Snape was nothing if not punctual. She could make it.

Hermione never had the chance. Just as she opened the door with a light heart to scan the corridor, Professor Snape happened to turn the corner into her hallway. His dark eyes immediately spotted the movement, and fixed onto Hermione's location.

"Miss Granger," he whispered menacingly, and despite the distance still between them, she heard perfectly. "You are idiotic enough to ignore curfew after all this time. How… usual."

She'd never had the benefit of being near someone after her sessions in the room as she usually peacefully snuck into her bed without confrontation. However, with this encounter, she found that the results of her form of stress relief were more far reaching than she had originally thought. Under the scathing eyes of her approaching Potions Professor, she felt little of the worry that usually plagued her.

"Yes, sir. I'm afraid I lost track of time. I was just returning now." The lie slid easily from her lips after years of practice. He ignored it just as easily.

"Of course you were. You've already lost Gryffindor 15 points. If you care to increase it to 50, continue to be untruthful."

"Really, sir, I was just returning," she said with what firmness she could infuse in her tired and relaxed voice. It was just too difficult to be upset currently.

"And what were you doing, Miss Granger? Plotting something no doubt."

"No, sir. I was simply releasing some frustration."

He snorted then and looked at her with an expression that clearly said what he thought about her frustration. Hermione smiled softly. In this light, with this mood, he really was quite interesting. She would laugh at his scoffing countenance if she had the energy to do so.

"And what, precisely, were you doing?" he interrogated snidely. Well, if he wanted honesty, then really, what was the point in denying him? It wasn't as if he could use it against her. As if the Slytherins would give two knuts about her activities to relieve stress.

"I was screaming, sir."

The answer seemed to stun him for a second before he remembered his trademark scowl.

"Screaming?"

"Screaming, yelling, cursing. Generally very loud."

For an instant, she was sure he would take an exorbitant amount of points for her disregard and cheek. In fact, she was still quite certain he would, just not now. Instead, he looked almost speculative, and she suddenly was terribly aware of the weariness that seemed to radiate from him.

"I find it very therapeutic, sir," she continued hesitantly. "I always sleep peacefully afterwards."

There was a moment when she knew she had overstepped her bounds by so pointedly suggesting such a thing to her professor. Still, he surprised her again by ignoring the remark in favor of peering into the room.

"Very thorough," he commented almost idly. She smiled again.

"Yes, sir."

"How often are you breaking rules by… participating in this questionable behavior?" he demanded.

"Once a week on average. Sometimes more."

"And it succeeds in settling your silly complaints?"

"Tremendously, sir."

The professor looked downright considerate while he continued to take in the room silently.

"Go back to your tower, Miss Granger," he said without bothering to remove his eyes from their perusal of the faded paintings on the ceiling. "Do not dally, and do not stray."

"Yes, sir."

He did not seem likely to respond, so she took it as a sign of dismissal. Still, she found she couldn't leave quite yet, not like this.

"Good evening, Professor Snape."

He turned then to look at her, his features curiously eased into a relaxed blankness that simultaneously made him appear wiser and younger.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. Ten more points from Gryffindor."

He turned back, and entered the room. She waited until the door slipped shut behind him before starting her trek back to her dorm and the bliss of peaceful sleep.

Maybe it would happen to anyone, she mused, but there was something oddly attractive about her Potions Professor at the brink of personal escape. And maybe thinking about men occasionally wasn't such a horrible burden after all.


End file.
